


Balance

by severinne



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-08
Updated: 2008-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To quote the anonymous prompt that kicked this off: "Sam is Gene's dirty slut for the evening."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic ever, written for the first Life of Mars Anonymous Pornfest.

Somewhere between fielding Sam’s fists and trying not to notice his tears, Gene Hunt had given up on figuring out just how his DI worked. There were days when Gene watched over Sam with the greatest care, and days when Gene deemed it best to watch out for himself. Some nights in the pub he did what he could to balance the boy out, and then there were other nights when he took the balance of Tyler’s madness all for himself.

Tonight was one of those evenings when Sam’s hands, quickened by the pulse of something else, coaxed his DCI up the stairs and into his seedy little flat, when he intently gripped Gene’s hands in his own only to stretch them up above his head, pressing back against the wall, twisting his wrists in a clear demand to be pinned in place. When he let his head roll back, displayed his tempting throat, and parted his lips.

‘Gene…’ Sam moaned, all aching breath, ‘please… use me… make me…’

And Gene was never a strong enough man to stop, but plenty strong enough to crush Sam’s delicate wrists beneath one hand while the other tore past cheap clothing to grope aimlessly at flesh as it became so easy, so available to touch. He palmed the luxurious length of ribcage to taut stomach, pressed upward to thumb over a hardening nipple, snarled his own need into Sam’s collarbone as he reached down again to claw at belt and trousers, forcing it all aside and enclosing the freed erection in his fist. He squeezed hard, grinning into the skin beneath his mouth as Sam whimpered. ‘You filthy tart,’ he growled.

Sam moaned again, arching against him. ‘Yesss… oh, god, please…’

‘Tell me what you want.’ Gene granted his cock a few firm strokes, let his fingers play with the wetness gathering at the head. ‘Tell me what you deserve to get, what I’m gonna do with my dirty little boy…’

‘Anything…’ Sam was breathing heavily now, thrusting needfully into Gene’s touch even as his own hands remained pliant beneath his bruising grip. ‘Anything you want… hurt me, hold me down... make me suck you, make me ride your cock…’

Gene let out a shaky breath, control flying apart at the seams. He forced himself to release Sam’s wrists and cock, but quickly stifled Sam’s protests by pressing his damp fingers over his mouth, messily spreading pre-come over his lips and across his cheek. Sam’s tongue slipped along his upper lip for a taste, making Gene groan at the sight of his utterly debauched DI; he instinctively reached out, tugging his trousers and pants further down to his knees and pushing both leather jacket and shirt over his shoulders and partway down his arms, leaving him half-dressed and partially hobbled. The white vest was already torn and came away with another forceful yank. Sam gasped sharply, and Gene felt a satisfied purr rise in his chest.

‘Perfect.’ He leaned in to taste Sam’s throat, to bite down at the corner of his jaw. ‘On your knees, now.’

Sam dropped faster than Gene could unfasten his belt and trousers, and desperately mouthed over both tented polyester and his fumbling hands - a quick smack across the face eased him off and yielded a delicious moan besides. His own eagerness now racing in time to Sam’s harsh panting, Gene shoved down his trousers and pants just far enough to release his achingly hard cock and heavy balls. He groaned in relief as he stroked himself, staring fiercely at Sam’s parted lips, still slick with his own fluids. ‘Beg for it.’

Those strange amber eyes, darkened with lust, flickered upward with an open, raw need that made something tighten in Gene’s chest. ‘Please…’ he whispered breathlessly. ‘Please, let me… make me suck your cock… I…’ Sam swallowed convulsively, let his eyes fall closed, ‘I need to… need you to…’

‘Shh…’ Firmly, but with unintentional gentleness, Gene cradled the back of Sam’s head in his left hand, absently letting his thumb stroke the soft flesh behind his ear. ‘I know, Sammy.’ He drew him closer and traced the head of his cock around the contours of Sam’s lips, watching their fluids blend together there. ‘I’m gonna fuck your mouth,’ he murmured, shuddering as the breath of Sam’s shaky anticipation passed over the sensitive flesh still pressed to his lower lip. ‘Is that what you need?’ His hand tightened over the back of Sam’s neck. ‘Tell me, slut.’

‘ _Yes_ …’ Sam’s lips parted around the word, his groan stuttering around the sudden invasion of Gene’s hard length filling his mouth. The vibration of it rang along his cock, making Gene answer with his own deep moan, head falling back as he began to thrust shallowly. Sam was normally meticulous in this, as in all things, but now his lips and tongue worked sloppily over him, wet and frantic and bloody _amazing_. Long swipes of tongue gave way to firm suckling at the head, back to tongue before he was taken deep down Sam’s eager throat; Gene couldn’t keep up with the quicksilver shifts of mouth and mood that drove the man kneeling at his feet, knew he couldn’t last much longer under this onslaught of sensation.

Mustering the tattered scraps of his control, Gene shoved Sam off his cock and stepped backward, watching him tumble down to the floor in a tangle of denim and leather, lewdly exposed skin slick with sweat. He stared, transfixed for a long silence, then turned away, striding to the bed and riffling through the debris piled on the wood-veneer frame until he found the small bottle of lube Sam had taken to keeping there. He glanced back at Sam long enough to aim the bottle at his chest, then let his long legs carry him to the bedsit’s one armchair. ‘Get undressed, and get over here,’ he ordered, sitting heavily and stroking his cock. He considered removing his own clothes as well – he was still wearing his suit and tie and camelhair coat – but something in the Sam he was with tonight told him to leave it all on, told him that his DI needed to writhe against something controlled, to feel the implicit privilege of it all. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And sure enough, once Sam had stripped and straddled his lap, he moaned softly as his inner thighs shifted restlessly against his trousers, as he pressed and rubbed himself feverishly against the coarse camelhair, hard plastic buttons and slippery polyesters that contained the firm heat of Gene’s body. One of his hands was carding through his hair - sometimes playfully, sometimes gripping long enough to steal a kiss – and when Gene leaned back to seek the other hand he had to bite back a growl at the sight of Sam’s right arm reaching behind himself, shifting with an obvious rhythm.

‘Jesus… just lookit you…’ Gene surged closer, sucking and biting at the sideways bend of his delicious throat. ‘Ruttin’ at me like a bitch in heat, fuckin’ yerself with your fingers… such a dirty, filthy slut…’

‘ _Your_ dirty slut…’ Sam moaned. ‘Oh, god, Gene… yours…’ And there was a slick hand steadying his cock now while Sam shifted over him, and suddenly he was sinking into tight, clenching heat, so quickly – Sam hissed sharply as he ruthlessly impaled himself on Gene’s full length, head rolling backwards, body trembling visibly. Gene felt a noise escape his throat that he could scarcely identify as his own, and reached for Sam, hands hunting for purchase on all that quivering flesh.

‘Fuck, Sam…’ Gene stared up at him, the taut line of his body arched with lingering pain at the abrupt penetration; his eyes were open now and stared upward, familiarly lost. ‘Sammy… c’mon, stay with me…’ His broad hands moved around to his back, firmly stroking from shoulder to hip, smoothing the tension gathered along his spine. ‘C’mon, Sammy-boy… shh, easy…’

Still panting heavily, Sam blinked down at him. His hands gripped slightly where they were still planted, one braced on Gene’s thigh and the other on his shoulder, before he slowly smiled, stretched his spine under Gene’s touch, and moved.

Gene cried out at the sudden stimulation of Sam rolling his arse, slowly but firmly, in his lap, riding his cock with a deliberate, teasing sensuality. He shifted again, gradually rising up along his length and easing down again, clenching and releasing in a slow, building rhythm that matched the hot, harsh breath that Sam was pushing past his ear, where he now leaned in tight, hands buried in the lapels of his coat.

‘Fuck me,’ he rasped on another slow thrust of his hips, up, then down. ‘Fuck me, fuck me…’ A harsh plea drove on each movement, and the insistent pulse of both was driving Gene mad with lust. With a sudden growl, he gripped Sam hard by the hip and the back of his neck and pushed out of the chair, sending them both sprawling across the threadbare carpeting, Sam on his back and Gene covering him, still buried inside him.

‘Like this?’ Gene whispered heatedly into Sam’s ear as he began to thrust deep into the body beneath him. His pace was frantic, more brutal than he intended, but the sounds Sam made as he spread his legs wider to take him in only drove him further. ‘This how my dirty boy needs to be fucked?’

‘Oh, god, yes…’ Sam’s lean legs crept under the drape of Gene’s coat and wrapped themselves tight around his hips. ‘Yes, yes, just like this… please… fuck me, fuck your dirty little whore…’ Gene groaned and slammed his hips harder, forcing a whimper past Sam’s lips as he turned his head aside, pressing his cheek to the abrasive carpet, exposing his long, smooth throat in a clear show of surrender. ‘Tell me… fuck, oh god… tell me I’m your whore…’

It was too much – Gene felt an electric shock snap down his spine, driving him into a sudden frenzy he could no longer control. He saw his hands moving, saw Sam’s wrists trapped once more beneath his left hand, saw the fingers of his right gripping his jaw, fucking his mouth, being sucked by his mouth… _oh fuck_. ‘That’s right…’ he snarled, his lips grazing the shell of Sam’s ear. ‘My dirty, filthy, fuckin’ whore, that’s what you are… takin’ my cock so deep, suckin’ my fingers like that, bet you wish you had another hard dick down yer throat right now, don’t you, you greedy little tart? Oh, fuck yeah, jus’ what you need… oh, god, put you in yer place, gonna come in you so hard, so hard you’re gonna shoot yer load all over yerself cos you fuckin’ love it, love – ‘

Sam arched beneath him as he came, his cock pulsing hot against Gene’s belly, his sharp cries muffled by Gene’s fingers in his mouth. Hard spasms shook his body, clenching around Gene and pushing him over the edge; he bit down helplessly on Sam’s throat as he snapped his hips forward, feeling his release flood into Sam’s welcoming heat.

He came back to awareness sluggishly, drawn by the wet drag of Sam’s tongue over the fingers still pressed between his lips. ‘Fuck.’ Gene exhaled shakily, tried to regain the use of his arms and relieve Sam of his boneless, crushing weight. His softening cock slipped from Sam’s arse as he pushed up onto his elbows and gazed blearily down at him, taking in the languid sprawl of his arms, the bite mark blooming on his neck, the sudden quiet of his face. ‘Alright?’

Sam’s eyes slitted open, still heavy lidded as they gazed up at him. ‘Tell me…’ he murmured.

‘Bloody hell, how much more talking d’you want?’ Exhaustion kept his tone light, distracted as he trailed his fingers through the semen smeared across Sam’s chest; he knew without looking that his suit was ruined now. He hoped his coat had been spared the worst of it, then smirked: the best of it, perhaps?

He froze as Sam’s hand came down over his. ‘Tell me,’ he repeated, voice still low but with an edge of stubbornness. Gene watched as Sam brought his hand back up to his mouth and traced his tongue over his index finger, licking him clean. ‘Tell me I’m yours… tell me I won’t disappear, that you won’t let me…’ His eyes squeezed shut again as he took a deep breath, lips pressing desperately to his come-slick hand.

Gene felt his chest tighten again as he stared in awestruck silence at his DI. He opened his mouth to reply, but his brain was too loud to speak over, prattling on about radios and words that didn’t make sense and mad grins that no one ever understood and an echo of a voice: _DI Tyler thinks he’s from the future. Cuckoo._

He shook his head. He already made his choice. Which was why Tony Crane was just another easy write-off to the funny farm and Sam Tyler was a baffling, well-fucked and painfully gorgeous mess of a man sprawled beneath him. Gene slid his hand to Sam’s cheek, gently tilted his head up, pressed a kiss to his addled, sweaty brow.

His mad, wonderful Sam. ‘Never.’


End file.
